Basic Needs
by starg8fans
Summary: Tag to 'Broken Ties', so it's one big spoiler for that episode. It's what the episode didn't show, but should have - Ronon's road to recovery, and how each member of his team helped him another step along.
1. Sleep

_Author's Note:_ This is a series of vignettes centered around Ronon and each of his team members individually as they try to help him cope with a different aspect of his ordeal at the hands of the Wraith. I wrote these tags because I felt a lack of closure at the end of 'Broken Ties'. Even though the wordless Sheppard/Ronon scene at the end was powerful, I would have liked to see more of Ronon's recovery.

I don't own any of the characters (to my biggest regret), and I only write this for my own and - hopefully - others' enjoyment.

As always, thanks to my wonderful beta Lahela, who proofed this in record time so I could post it before going away on holiday.

_Sleep_

Sheppard was kneeling before him. The defiant look in his eyes could not totally mask the fear that lurked there as well. Ronon felt the hilt of Tyre's sword heavy in his hand. _No mercy to our enemies._ There was only one thing he could do. The right thing. He felt almost dizzy with the power of his conviction. Uttering a guttural cry, Ronon raised the sword in one swift motion and drew it across Sheppard's throat…

The next thing Ronon knew was that he was sitting upright in his bed. He was drenched in sweat, and gasping for air. Suddenly the door to his quarters opened. He closed his eyes, blinded by the light that fell into his darkened room from the corridor. It appeared that it was early morning already.

Ronon dropped back into his pillows, his eyes still closed, willing whoever was a the door to go away and leave him alone. It was not the first nightmare he'd had, and it would not be the last. It would need time - a lot of time for him to come to terms what had happened to him at the hands of the Wraith Tyre had delivered him to. The shame and despair at having succumbed to his arch enemy began to rise in him again, when the rustling of clothing by his side made him open his eyes.

Teyla was standing by his bed, her baby son cradled in her arms. There was concern clearly written across her face, but something else. Was it pity? He sure hoped it wasn't.

"Is there something you need? I heard you cry out as I passed the your door," Teyla explained, adding with a small smile, "Torren was restless after his morning feed, and walking usually calms him."

Ronon just stared at her, unsure what to say. There was no way he was going to tell her about his dream. Teyla seemed unperturbed by his silence. She stood her ground, gently rocking the sleeping child. Finally she looked up from her son's peaceful face and addressed Ronon again.

"I have been meaning to talk to you for quite some time, but you have managed to… evade me," she said. "Your body is well on its way to heal itself, but I can tell that your mind is still in turmoil."

Ronon snorted. "Doesn't take a genius to figure that out."

"No, it doesn't," Teyla agreed calmly. "I know you are blaming yourself for what happened, but I assure you that none of it was your fault."

Groaning inwardly, Ronon turned his head towards the wall. He didn't need a lecture. He needed time and a good night's sleep without these recurring dreams.

"Becoming a Wraith worshipper was not a decision that was yours to make," Teyla continued. "The Wraith drown your spirit in their vile juices, and fill the void that is left behind with hatred and indifference to other peoples' suffering. There is no way you could have resisted them while you were under their influence."

"I know all that," Ronon growled, hoping she would leave him alone. But Teyla was stubborn. She took another step towards the bed. "It could happen to anybody. It could happen to me. So tell me, what is it like?"

Ronon's head snapped around. "What?"

"I want to know how it feels to be under the wraith's spell, to have no will of your own. Do you think at all? Or are you completely numb?

That was so typically Teyla. Always managed to put her finger right on the sore spot. Ronon wanted to grab and shake her for making him admit what he wasn't willing to face. But she was holding the baby…

"What do you think it's like?" he snarled instead. "It's horrible, it's terrifying, it's…"

His words petered out under her level gaze. Damn it, that woman could look right into a man's soul.

"Why do you attempt to deceive me, Ronon Dex?" Teyla finally asked. "My mind has blended with that of Wraiths. I know how strong and… persuasive they are."

Ronon's mouth was working, but no words came. Seating herself on the side of his bed, Teyla reached out a hand and placed it right over his heart.

"Tell me," she said.

Running his tongue over his dry lips, he finally managed to croak, "It felt… great."

Nodding her head, Teyla encouraged him to continue.

"Everything was so… clear. Either black or white. There was no doubt, no hesitation. You knew what you had to do, and you knew it was right."

Teyla sighed. "I can understand that such a state of mind would hold much appeal. One and only one clear path to follow..."

"Exactly," Ronon agreed. "And then the enzyme wears off and everything is so confusing, all these questions, choices, decisions…"

"Oh, I know that feeling only too well," Teyla murmured, looking at her sleeping child. "But that is what we are. Human. Allowed to make mistakes. To choose poorly. But we also have the power to set things right again."

There was a long pause, then Ronon answered her unspoken question. "Tyre."

"Yes, Tyre." Gathering Torren, who had begun to stir, in her arms again, Teyla rose. "I will always remember him as a brave and honorable man. Because that was his nature. The wraith worshipper was not him. And it was not you. Once your mind has eased, you will realize what a gift it is to make your own choices and follow your own path. Although some of us," she added, with a devoted look at the now obviously fretful baby, "may decide to forego that complete freedom…"

The ghost of a smile crossed Ronon's face as he watched Teyla leave. Then his eyes drifted shut as sleep claimed him again.


	2. Eat

_Author's Note:_ I think it was a given that Rodney would come under this heading. And of course it is a lot more humorous than the last chapter. This after effect of the 'gift of life' is just my imagination, so don't go looking for evidence in the transcripts. It's not there.

_Eat_

His face a moue of distaste, Rodney turned from the food line. Wishing their new commander to hell, he carried his tray of balanced, nutritious and wholesome food to a table where Ronon sat nursing a bottle of mineral water.

"Any luck yet?" the scientist asked. Ronon shook his head.

"Hm, so you're still on the…" The Satedan held out his hand where a large bandaid was covering an IV needle stuck in the vein.

"Actually, you're not missing much," Rodney tried to cheer up his teammate, scowling at the tofu patty and mixed vegetables on his tray. "Ever since Woolsey took over here in Atlantis the cafeteria food has taken a marked turn for the worse. Oh, there's no doubt it's _good_ for you, but who wants to live to be a hundred years old on stuff like this?" He speared something that looked like broccoli and held it up for Ronon's inspection. "Let's face it, we come very close to sudden and violent death on a disturbingly regular basis, and our chances of growing to a ripe old age are approaching zero. So if I have to go early, I'd rather do it on a satisfied stomach. And mine craves fried foods, red meat, and lots of sugar and polyunsaturated fats."

"Yeah, well, it sure beats eating through a needle."

Rodney almost choked on the sprout. "Oh, I realize that, and I was in no way trying to belittle your predicament… Although in a way it's fascinating as well, isn't it? Not to receive any nourishment for - what was it, about ten days? I mean apart from what the wraith pumped into your…"

The glare Ronon sent his way prevented McKay from going there. Busying himself with cutting up the veggie burger, he asked, "So, what's Keller's prognosis? When does she think your organism can process food again?"

Ronon shrugged. "She just told me to keep trying. At least I can keep liquids down now, so my time on the drip has been halved."

McKay's eyes had taken on an excited gleam. "Liquids, eh? Excellent. I know just what you need."

"And what's that?"

"Chicken soup."

Ronon looked at Rodney as if the scientist had lost his marbles.

"Chicken soup."

"Yes, the way my grandmother used to make it. With bits of chicken, carrot, celery and of course with noodles. Although we should probably go easy on the solid parts in the beginning."

McKay had risen from the table and was about to hurry towards the kitchen when Ronon's hand clamped around his wrist.

"What's so special about chicken soup?"

"What? Oh, it's a universally accepted… no, let me rephrase that, _on earth _it's a generally accepted remedy for anything from a common cold to a broken heart. Why didn't I think of it before?" Seeing the Satedan's skeptical look, Rodney continued, "Look, I was especially prone to stomach flu as a child. Often couldn't keep anything down for days, and the first thing I could deal with afterwards was grandma's chicken soup. Put me right back on my feet." He smiled in a self congratulatory way. "Even know the recipe. Bugged her until she gave it to me when I was eleven. I did a full microbiological evaluation on it, trying to discern the cause for its healing properties, but at the time I only had a very basic lab, so I came up blank. And later, of course, my time was taken by…" Rodney broke off when he saw the scowl that was beginning to spread across Ronon's face. "Anyway, it's stored right here." He tipped a finger against his temple. "I'll just have to tell the cook." And off he went.

_- A few hours later… -  
_

"Ronon?" Jennifer Keller's voice came through the com. "I just wanted to remind you that you are already half an hour late for your IV."

His mouth full of noodles and soup, Ronon gestured at McKay to take the call.

"That won't be necessary anymore, Doc," Rodney replied into his earpiece. "The spell is broken. I came up with a magical formula that has Ronon on his third helping with no discernible ill effects."

There was a pause at the other end. "A _magical_ formula? Please tell me you didn't cook up something in your science lab, Rodney?"

"Who do you take me for, Dr. Crippen?" McKay sputtered. "No, it's old fashioned chicken soup, of course."

"Chicken soup?" Keller said thoughtfully. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Well, that's why you have a resident genius on hand," Rodney replied gleefully. "We may be in another galaxy, but as I was just able to prove some universal truths are truly universal…"


	3. Drink

_Author's Note: _I felt they owed it to Tyro to clear his name. I am very sorry that he's gone. He was a great character, and would have deserved to be in more episodes than just two. Although IMHO, they were two of the best ever.

This is the conclusion, so please let me know what you think. Constructive criticism especially welcome, I'm still on a learning curve. The 'submit review' button is at the bottom of the page...

_Drink_

They saw Solen through a haze of smoke that saturated the air in the Belkan tavern. He was seated at his usual table, playing cards with an old crone with barely a tooth left in her gums. From the pile of coins in front of her she seemed to be winning.

The Satedan looked up as Sheppard and Ronon stepped up to his table. A big grin began to spread over his face.

"Look who's come back from the dead. Ronon Dex."

Obviously relieved at the interruption that cut his losing streak, Solen motioned to the old woman to leave, which she did after the coins had disappeared like magic into a baggy pocket of her frayed cloak.

"Well," Solen began after John and Ronon had sat down opposite him, "I guess you're here to thank me for the tip I gave you. Looks like it paid off."

"No," Ronon answered, "We're here to set you straight about Tyre."

"Tyre?" Solen spat. "He's a coward and no-good traitor in my book. And there's nothing you could say that would change my mind." He looked at Ronon. "I'm surprised at you. Obviously you withstood the Wraith. So how can you defend somebody who didn't have the guts to resist them?"

"Because I didn't resist either. I submitted."

Leaning back in his seat, Solen looked at Ronon through narrowed eyes, while his hand inched towards the gun in his belt.

"You submitted…" he said finally.

"Yes, I did. There was nothing I could do."

John felt it was time for some explanatory words. "Look. Our doctors examined both Tyre and Ronon when they came back from the Wraith. Both had massive amounts of an enzyme in their blood that the Wraith pumped into them. It acts like a drug, it messes with the brain and makes you dependent on it."

Solen snorted. "No drug is powerful enough to mess up a person's brain so they serve the Wraith. Or to stop you from killing yourself to avoid that fate."

"How about the time you smoked hicca leaf when we were kids?" Ronon spoke up again. "You stole your mother's skirt, hung it around you like a cape and would have jumped from the cliff to your death if we hadn't pulled you back at the last minute." Ronon leaned closer to his former friend, his voice only a whisper. "This is worse. A hundred, a thousand times worse. Trust me. If the Wraith put their mind to it, they would break you, too."

Solen blinked. It clearly wasn't easy for him to have his preconceptions rearranged in this manner. He cast a suspicious look at Sheppard.

"How do you know he's alright now? That he's no longer working for _them_?"

Ronon was about to jump up and punch the other Satedan in the face, but John put a restraining hand on his arm.

"That's a valid question. But our doctors are certain that once all the Wraith enzyme has been purged from the body a person becomes his old self again. After he survived his withdrawal, Tyre sided with us to get Ronon back, and sacrificed his own life to cover our escape, destroying an important Wraith installation in the process. That's good enough for me."

Solen nodded slowly. Then he withdrew his hand from the butt of his gun and reached instead for the bottle that was sitting on the table, raising it in a toast.

"To Ronon and his rescue. And to Tyre and his redemption."

As Solen brought the bottle to his lips John eyed the pitch black liquid that was sloshing around in it with suspicion. He would probably not get around having to take a swig of whatever rotgut it was. But he decided Ronon's peace of mind was worth it.


End file.
